


Goretober Prompt 2 - Trypophobia/Parasite -

by Everlasting_Wonders



Series: Goretober Prompts 2020 [2]
Category: Goretober 2020 - Fandom, Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Gore, HEP Agency, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mycelium Resistance, POV Third Person, Parasites, Permadeath, Swearing, Trypophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlasting_Wonders/pseuds/Everlasting_Wonders
Summary: The Mycelium Resistance is alive and thriving with their new underground base. Everyone's been in high spirits over the friendly turf war; everyone except for Grian. Ever since messing with the block, he's been growing sicker and sicker, not to mention his growing fascination with mushrooms. When spores begin to sprout in his hair, he waves it off as nothing. Spending too much time around mushrooms can't be harmful, right?WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD AND GORE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, ESPECIALLY IF YOU HAVE TRYPOPHOBIA.**Note: This takes place days after Grian finished the hidden Mycelium Resistance base's interior design.**
Series: Goretober Prompts 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956244
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Goretober Prompt 2 - Trypophobia/Parasite -

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another Goretober prompt! Me being me, I have decided to turn this into a 'Gore Year' of some sorts. I'll be keeping a series of all my 2020 prompts as well as my 2021 prompts when we transition into the new year.
> 
> I began this prompt early October, but never got around to finishing it until now. Unlike the teeth prompt, this one isn't necessarily based around the premise of a blood-bath. If you are into more blood-based stories, please check out part 1 of my Goretober prompts!) Now let the story begin.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Gore that has to do with holes (I apologize to the people with Trypophobia).  
> Swearing  
> Suggestion of self-harm  
> Mushrooms!!!!!!! :D

_Gods, isn’t this a prime example of karma._

A dry laugh drags itself from the depths of Grian’s lungs before morphing into an uncomfortable wheeze within a matter of seconds. A piece of his hoodie is brought to his mouth to muffle the noise, a hand waving dismissively toward his four colleagues. 

“Grian, you need to stay seated.” 

The sentence is far from a suggestion; it’s low and demanding, the owner holding a serious expression. 

“I’m fine,” he insists indignantly, rising from the almost birch-colored seat to display his state of health. He completes the action with little issue, eyebrows knitting when the four Hermits form a loose circle around him. They don’t come too close, keeping their distance as they analyze their friend. 

The underground laboratory feels suffocating with the number of eyes captivated on him, his lungs lurching sideways in a desperate attempt to find fresh air and get away from the other Hermits. He needs to get outside and clear his mind before it gets too much. 

A frustrated growl tears through his sore throat when a hand clasps itself around his shoulder, his attempt to smack it away proven unsuccessful. “I said that I’m fine!” 

“We’re all just concerned for you,” a lighter voice pipes up from in front of him. The confidence in the new voice wavers as he gazes upon the short Hermit’s blonde curls, bits of brown and red sprouting between clumps of unkempt hair. 

Grian lifts his blue eyes off of the ground to meet Impulse’s sympathetic gaze, forcing a shameful expression from his face before the others could catch a glimpse of it. “I know. I get it,” he mutters under his breath; his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall when the grip on his shoulder tightens from his words instead of loosening. 

“No, you don’t get it,” Etho argues, impatience edging his tone. His voice sounds coarse with confusion. “We’re trying to help you and you keep running away from us.” 

The short Hermit can feel his muscles tense with every word being sent his way. “I just need some fresh air like usual.” 

“We both know that isn’t true, G,” Ren responds with a strained voice, panic tracing his erratic heartbeat. “Every time you go outside you just come back with more spores in your hair and holes in your skin.” 

Grian flinches back at his friend’s blunt words. He self-consciously claps a hand to his neck, fingers fiddling with the holes digging deep caverns into the exposed flesh. He can nearly fit his entire finger in the vent-like wound, not a single nerve being set off in response to the movement. 

His shoulders quiver in anxiety, blue eyes igniting with trepidation. 

He doesn’t need to feel his hair to know there’s yet another patch of mushrooms sprouting from his head. At first, the group had complimented him on it under the assumption that it had simply been decoration to show his pride over leading the Resistance. 

He’d been able to play his worsening state off casually. The excuse that he’s so passionate over the Mycelium Resistance went unquestioned for a long period of time. 

It was only when xBCrafted pointed out the holes beginning to spread throughout his skin three weeks ago that concern truly broke out among the small group. 

_“My elytra broke on my way here. Fell from quite the height,” the words had slipped effortlessly through_ _Grian’s_ _lips, mind desperate for any sort of justification over the worsening wounds._

_XB looked quite unimpressed at the excuse; a snort was made to display his doubt in the leader’s words._

_“Being reckless as always, aren’t you, dude?”_ _Rendog_ _laughed. He must’ve sensed the tension beginning to settle in the air for he had cracked a smile in an attempt to lighten the mood; Grian was thankful for the Hermit’s playful attitude as it contrasted nicely to xB's suspicious glances._

_The short Hermit had nodded a bit too quickly in agreement. “I might’ve been just a_ tad _too excited to share my plans for the base with you guys.”_

_Grian’s_ _bright blue gaze glanced around the excavated cave, the glitter of_ _unmined_ _ores glinted in the torch’s burning flame. The atmosphere felt dense and warm, a bit humid from a small waterfall not far from the gathered pair._

_The most notable thing in the room was the bright red curtain that covered most of a wall; it wavered as each cold draft twirled at its tassels. He could feel his heart begin to swell with pride at the sight of it, taking quick strides toward the yellow tassel swinging freely in the draft. He cleared his throat to gain the four Hermit’s attention, dramatically gesturing toward the curtain._

_“This is what I’ve called you here for!”_ _Grian_ _announced; excitement pooled from his voice. He could see_ _Ren_ _as he bounced in place, clearly ecstatic for the big reveal as well. “I’ve been working on it for days now, and I think I’ve come to a design that you all will enjoy.”_

_“Ooo, what is it?” Impulse called out._

_“I’m glad you asked!”_

_Grian_ _gave a swift tug on the silky-smooth material, the red curtain sliding away without an ounce of hesitation. He didn’t turn to see the other members' reactions, too busy staring at his own creation with the utmost pride._

_A giant block of Mycelium hovers innocently over quartz flooring, the dirt seeming to extend deep into the white walls surrounding it. The_ _glowstone_ _that waited patiently on the floor cast an almost angelic light on the impressively large block._

_If_ _Etho_ _didn’t know any better, he would’ve believed that the large thing was indeed floating._

_Crimson trapdoors lined the extending portions of dirt; a purple substance oozed triumphantly through small cracks in the dark soil. A glance toward the floor confirmed that the substance hadn’t dripped onto the floor, though something else caught the four Hermits’ attention._

_Bundles of fungi erupted from minuscule cracks, seeping their way into the room. Each mushroom leaned toward the giant block of Mycelium as if it were a magnet they were attracted to._

_XBCrafted risked a glance toward_ _Grian_ _, an eyebrow raised when their leader simply gazed at his work as if he was entranced by it. Bundles of mushrooms that looked nearly identical to the ones sprouting from the ground laid peacefully among the curls of blonde hair._

_“It looks great,”_ _Ethoslab_ _praised with a soft laugh. “Is that big block supposed to be some type of source block?”_

_Grian’s_ _head whipped around so he could nod ecstatically toward the other. “Yeah! It’s the heart and soul of this Resistance,” he chirped with an awe-stricken face._

_“I like it too,” Impulse agreed; a thumbs-up had been enthusiastically offered._

_“I’ll do you one better,”_ _Rendog_ _responded in reference to Impulse’s thumbs-up, a fist-bump presented for the Resistance leader. The two fists connected in a burst of energy and excitement, neither Hermit able to stop smiling at each other._

_XB wanted to calm himself down, he wanted to smile and laugh with the other members of the Resistance. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down._ _Grian’s_ _mood felt...off. He didn’t know what exactly was wrong, his brain yelling that something was different from their upbeat friend._

_He began to brush the feeling off, his gut twinging in protest at not being listened to._

_“Are you doing okay, xB?” Impulse asked softly, volume low as to not ruin_ _Ren_ _,_ _Grian_ _, and_ _Etho’s_ _good mood._

_His eyebrows only furrowed, unsure of how to describe the feeling. “I think so,” he murmured under his breath. “Something just doesn’t feel right, y’know?”_

_Confusion easily conquered the other’s concerned expression. He shook his head slowly, “I don’t think anything feels off. Just a group of rebellions fighting to keep Mycelium here and having a good time doing it.”_

_Irritation flickered within xB’s gaze. “I just, I don’t know to explain it. I see everyone laughing and having a good time...it just seems wrong-” he let out a frustrated huff._

_“I get those feelings all the time,” Impulse supplied, “Usually it’s just me being paranoid that something’s going to ruin this good time.”_

_“Yeah, maybe that’s what it is.”_

_XB did not sound as convinced as he had wished._

_“Try waiting the feeling out; it’s bound to go away sooner or later,” Impulse suggested with a friendly smile. It caused xB’s muscles to relax slightly as he nodded in agreement._

_“I’ll do that. But, could you keep a lookout for anything weird as well?”_

_“Of course.”_

_Impulse withdrew from the conversation after his agreeing statement, satisfied with having helped his friend calm down slightly. He couldn’t find anything wrong with the scene before him; there wasn’t even a rumble to indicate a cave-in might occur._

_XB rejoined the other Hermits in their laughing antics, forcing himself to calm and enjoy himself._

_“Scar won’t be able to stop us!”_ _Grian_ _giggled with triumph._

_“Viva la Resistance!” Impulse yelled in pure joy._

_“Viva la Resistance!” the group cheered the repetition of words._

_The paranoid Hermit twiddled with his fingers after the cheer, gaze locked onto the mushroom crown properly fitted on top of their leader’s head. It's presence made complete sense on top of Grian's locks of hair; who else would fit the title of ‘Mother Spore’ so perfectly?_

_XB smiled brightly at their leader when he caught those brilliant blue eyes, the gremlin’s fist pumped into the air to display his triumph and belief in their group of resistors. The blood-red sweater gleamed in the torch-lit area; his oversized sleeve slightly cast downward as a result of his hand being held so high in the air._

_The Hermit nearly overlooked the minor detail, raising his own fist in the air as everyone else did to begin a massive montage of high-fives. A loose shred of skin on Grian grasped his attention, heading tilting as he attempted to get a closer look at the thing._

_Panic_ _flared_ _within him at the sight, resisting the urge to lunge at his friend and ask if he was feeling alright. He’s dealt with people who weren't the happiest and have resorted to tactics of bringing themselves pain on purpose._

_Upon closer inspection over the flimsy flap of flesh, his gaze caught sight of a small hole resting right beside his wrist. It was nothing like he’d ever seen before; the skin just sunk downward at the hole, leaving a spiderweb-like design where the skin on his wrist should be. Considering their leader had an excuse of crashing by the entrance to their secret base, the wound could easily be dismissible. But the injury being there wasn’t what was worrying him. It was the subtle movement going on beneath it._

_The hole was_ breathing. 

_“Uh, Grian?”_

_Said Hermit paused his glee-filled high-five with Ren, tilting his head to the side to acknowledge their recruiter. “Yeah?”_

_“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve got something on your wrist as well that seems like it’s moving.”_

_Grian's demeanor immediately shifts, body turning rigid while sudden panic flooded his senses. His hand is then flung to his face to analyze whatever XB was speaking about to ensure the man wasn’t just seeing things. Etho was quick to raise an eyebrow toward the short Hermit, Impulse’s gaze filling with concern at the idea of there being a serious wound on his wrist._

_The sleeve was quickly placed over the injury as soon as more attention was drawn to it. “Must’ve been from my crash,” was muttered, a nervous laugh following right after as he relaxes his tense shoulders._

_“That definitely doesn’t look like an elytra crash could cause it.”_

_Grian tensed yet again at the slightly challenging tone being used; his eyes frantically searched for an easier way to escape than the hole in the ceiling. “W-well, it did!”_

_“G-Man, you can tell us if something’s wrong-”_

_Ren leaped backward when the tiny gremlin whirled toward him with sudden fury fighting within his once panicked gaze._

_“For the last time, I’m fine! It’s none of your business anyway!” he hissed; Ren could’ve sworn he saw steam emitting from those messy locks of hair._

_Impulse gently pulled xB and_ _Etho_ _backward when their leader put his elytra back on, firing a rocket and shooting back outside._

Grian had never raised his hand ever since that incident, and his sleeves had doubled in size to ensure they didn’t accidentally reveal his arms. The upgrade in size unfortunately had also uncovered some of his neck, a place where holes had swiftly begun to sprout as well. 

“I haven’t been feeling under the weather in months. Why the Void would I suddenly feel sick now?” he mutters under his breath, lungs gulping down air to assist with him keeping his composure. His attempt to gain oxygen backfires almost immediately, a swirl of purple and grey fluttering from his mouth as he begins yet another coughing fit. 

The others lunge backward immediately, eyes wide at the scene playing before them. XB’s heart lurches in his chest when Grian collapses to the ground with a pained groan, the sound gurgled by the small particles of yellow now being cleared from his lungs. He wants to reach forward and help their friend, but nobody knows whether the illness is contagious.

“Joe,” Etho announces suddenly, yanking Impulse away from his panicking state. “Impulse, we need Joe, _now._ ” 

The Hermit frantically dives for the bubble-elevator leading out of the base at the command, disappearing up the water within mere seconds. 

Grian remains rolling on the ground, beginning to gag with the amount of dust coming up from his lungs. His hand grasps the table above him as he desperately tries to find anything to ground himself with. The holes located on his neck that his hand had once been covering swell with glee, pulsating at the yellow dust beginning to coat his blood-red sweater. 

As if cut by a knife, the spiderwebbed skin suddenly lurches sideways, spreading in hopes to cover its target’s entire neck. 

Horror laces xB’s shocked eyes as something deep within the abysmal hole of Grian’s neck _moves._ The skin flares a bright pink as dust on the hoodie floods onto it, a couple large... 

_Fuck, no._

Red and white spots sprout beneath the chaotic Hermit’s neck, the poor man still hunched over with a deathly grip on the table. His face contorts with pain as each spore grows higher, one particularly large shroom trapped underneath one of the spider-webbed holes of flesh. 

Grian shrieks out in pain when the skin suddenly gives out to enable the growth of the mushroom, the sickly design of the cobweb coming undone like stitches. Each line of skin tethered to the other side snaps as a rubber band would, smacking against his neck. 

Etho doesn’t want to peer down the holes; all he could see was darkness being shaded by enlarging mushrooms. Mushrooms that don’t appear as if they want to stop. 

“That’s f-fucked up,” Ren whispers in terror, the trio gasping when Grian’s grip on the table finally gives out. The man collapses onto the marble ground with a yell of pain, the tortured sound cut off by the sickening crack of teeth clenching into each other. 

Blood spills within the short Hermit’s mouth, his once bright blue gaze filling with utter shock. His eyes blur with more tears as he gazes at the single pink thing sitting tauntingly in front of him. 

Part of his tongue. 

He gags at the mere sight of it, more purple powder pouring from his mouth. Muffled sobs wrack throughout his body at the horrible realization, unable to take his eyes off of the bleeding thing still writhing on the ground. Sharp pain in his skull causes him to take his focus off of the dreadful missing flesh, a hand tearing frantically at his head. 

He can feel the clusters of spores in his hair begin to further move, eliciting a lisped scream from his cracked lips. Oh, Void it burns. It feels as if a thousand drills were working their way into his skull, cracking deep within his brain and turning it into mush. He thrashes in pain on the floor, nerves pleading for the pain to stop.

“Hurry, Impulse, hurry!” 

Grian can’t hear the frantic words of xB, the man unsure what else to do. He can’t possibly touch the spores; what if they infected him as well? Or Ren and Etho? Neither XB nor Grian would ever forgive themselves if they ended up hurting someone else. Helplessness and despair pool around the three, tears brimming in both of their eyes as their forced to witness the traumatic event. 

“I w-w-want it to- _STOP!”_

The poor Hermit’s words lisp as he spasms on the marble flooring, hand punching mercilessly at the ground. When it proves to not distract himself from the undeniable pain, he grasps at his neck, attempting to tear at the holes sprouting plant-life. Pain rips through him as his fingernails enter the gaping hole, skin tearing as he rakes his nails across it. Blood from the newly opened wound flows onto his oversized sweater, dousing the powder trapped on it. 

His hiccups suddenly turn silent, replaced by a desperate choking sound. He begins to tear mercilessly at his throat, cutting deep into his skin as he continues to gag in place. 

He can feel the spore nudging into the inside of his throat, attempting to block air from entering his lungs. Panic seizes him, finding enough strength to throw himself at the table in hopes it’ll loosen the spore blocking his throat. A choked gasp rips through his throat as the rest of his air is knocked out of him. 

“Ren, don’t-!” 

The wolf-eared Hermit doesn’t pay a single bit of attention to Etho’s warning, lunging at his friend’s side urgently. He scoops Grian up without an ounce of hesitance, not minding the powder dancing all over his skin. It itches with every movement he makes; he’s certain that his skin is extremely inflamed in response to the powder.

“Grian, I’m so sorry!” 

Ren forces himself not to think as his fist slams into the Hermit’s throat in hopes it’ll help, even if only a little. Twinges of regret swirl within his stomach, though the reminder of feeling helpless moments before quickly vanquishes the feeling. The response on Grian is instantaneous, the Hermit doubling over and spewing chunks all over the floor.

A large purple spore lays innocently on the ground, encased within the bloodied powder that had coated the Hermit's lungs. It’s almost as if Grian had swallowed an entire desert of Mycelium powder. 

“I GOT JOE!” 

Ren cradles the shorter close at Impulse’s loud yell, relieved tears flooding his gaze. “You’re going to be fine, G. Stay with me, come on.” 

Grian only responds in another coughing fit, still spitting out blood from his half-missing tongue. His sobs and wails of pain begin to dull at his friend’s comforting voice, exhaustion and fatigue coating his features. 

He can still feel the spores digging deep into his skull, though he feels nearly paralyzed as his adrenaline leaves his veins. He barely even registers another hand touching right below his chin in an attempt to check for proper vitals. 

“I don’t have any anesthesia on me,” Joe mutters, furiously swiping through the bag he had brought with him. “But I do have surgery tools and potions,” he announces as he fishes a few scalpels out. 

“He’s drunk on shock and exhaustion,” Ren pipes up, “The wounds don’t look as if they go too deep; he should be fine without anesthesia.” 

Joe doesn’t hesitate at the silent agreement he shares with the wolf-eared Hermit. “Deep breaths, Grian,” he begins as he carefully begins to peel away the man's hoodie to better reveal the growing spores.

“You’ll be healthy in no time.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment down below! If it encourages you more, feel free to be anonymous with your comment! It still helps me a lot to see what I'm doing good on or what I need to improve. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this.
> 
> I sincerely hope you all have a wonderful day!
> 
> (P.S, 3333 words! Wow, what a coincidence!)


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